


Most Loving Mere Folly

by vastlyunknown



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, loads of fluff, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vastlyunknown/pseuds/vastlyunknown
Summary: Damen hates the cold. Laurent helps.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JuliaBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/gifts).



> This was written for the Captive Prince secret santa! I am super late and I am super sorry. This is the first fic I've written in over a year and gaining confidence again has been so hard. Not to mention that motherbleeping writer's block! ANYWAYS!!!! lol I hope this still brings you a modicum of joy.  
> to my recipient: HI!!! I hope this will please and appease you. I am so sorry it took me this long to have it up. But it's here now and I hope youwill enjoy it.  
> to the mods: May you be blessed for your patience and kindness! You're a real trooper! As an apology, I promise to never bother you ever again lmao! Thank you so much for everything!

A cold burst of air whistles past the door as Damen pushes it open, ruffling the towels wrapped around his body. He doesn’t usually bother with towels; the baths adjacent to the royal chambers are warm and private, rendering modestly and his ridiculous Akielon sensibilities (as Laurent refers to them) quite redundant.

This is Vere however and more to the point, it’s Damen’s first _winter_ in Vere. Last year, they opted to stay in Akielos for practical reasons - Damen’s version of the events, if you asked Laurent he’d tell you that it would have been a shame to save Damen from certain death only to have him perish at the hands of Vere’s frigid winters. Damen can’t quite argue with that, no matter how much he wants to. He’s known hardship in the last couple of years but nothing prepared him for the brutality of the previous weeks.

Despite his awe and almost child-like enjoyment of the white banks of snow, practicality demands layers. That’s why he’s been sleeping with three fur duvets and can’t, simply cannot, go from the baths to his bedchamber completely naked, which is quite unfortunate because he very much likes Laurent’s quiet and appreciative appraisal every time he passes the threshold.

Towels wrapped around his mid-section and his shoulders, Damen shivers as he closes the door.

“The great warrior king, future emperor of the New Artesian Empire, brought down by a gust of wind,” comes the soft voice, tone quiet but teasing; infusing much needed warmth in Damen’s chest. Laurent is standing by the end of the bed, hair rumpled and eyes clear despite the early hour.

Damen wants to reach out and pull him close; fight the cold with the indisputable fact of their unity.He stays still, knows how the anticipation and quiet longing can make the moment sweeter when it finally comes. He also knows how much Laurent enjoys these moments; the ones where they get to exchange quips about their everyday life without life and death hanging in the balance.

“There’s actual wind and then there’s the spectre of death you and your people call wind.”

Laurent rolls his eyes with a put upon sigh. The soft linen of his bed shirt slips from one of his shoulders, exposing pale skin and drawing Damen’s gaze. He remembers kissing that shoulder last night, recognises the very spot where he bit into the flesh and made Laurent gasp, he remembers Laurent’s soft sighs and his feverish body wrapping around Damen’s. He remembers the loud thud of his own heart as Laurent’s soft hair tickled his chin and his sure hands settled on Damen’s chest. He revels in the memory of their quiet possessiveness and their desperate need; stirring heat and excitement in Damen’s core.

He lets his eyes slowly wander back to Laurent’s, a caress, a promise, a vow.

The flush on his husband’s cheeks belies the knowing twitch of his mouth.

“I’m starting to think it’s a good thing the war occurred in the summer. We’d have no chance of winning otherwise.”

“You say that now but I recall you struggling through the worst of Akielon summer and still snagging not one but two kingdoms,” Damen says as he comes closer, fingers itching and steps slow.

“Obviously, I have more endurance,” Laurent’s says with a taunting smile.

Damen feels a grin blooming on his face; terrible and gripping fondness exuding out of him in waves.

“You’re quite mouthy for someone who endured summer in Ios like one endures the fiery pits of Hell.”

Laurent quirks an eyebrow and holds a finger a up. “One, Akielon summers _are_ the fiery pits of Hell and two, men have lost their lives for putting my dignity in question.” Chin tilted up, eyes narrowed and shoulders thrown back, Laurent would look quite terrifying if his legs weren’t bare.

And if Damen hadn’t come to live for these teasing exchanges that end with kisses more often than not.

“I’m glad I’m not most men, then,” Damen shoots.

Laurent’s smile is sudden and bright, a coiled ember glowing at the center of Damen’s core.

Laurent finally moves away from the bed, coming closer to Damen in a languid pace, his bare legs like long beacons of light at the very center of Damen’s mind. He doesn’t even try to keep his gaze above Laurent’s waist.

When he finally reaches Damen, his husband anchors him with a soft kiss to the cheek and without thinking, Damen’s hands settle on Laurent’s waist, sliding under his shirt and coveting the warmth there.

As cold as Vere gets in the midst of winter, Laurent always remains warm and welcoming.

His forehead finds Damen’s collarbones and he feels more than he hears Laurent’s exhale. And just like that, Damen remembers why he’s had to wake so early. He wraps his arms more firmly around his husband and pulls him close.

Laurent’s hands flexes on Damen’s chest, his eyes closing and lips parted. He is always a punch to the gut; breathtakingly beautiful, almost unfathomable. Damen’s lips find the crown of his head and they stay there as he inhales the scent of citrus.

Something at the end of their bed catches his attention and he laughs quietly when he realises what it is. Laurent prepared his clothes for the journey while he was bathing. Servants had prepared his luggages the day before and they were already downstairs, awaiting transport.

“You’re quite the devoted spouse.”

“You’re quite annoying this morning,” Laurent replies. “Well, more so than usual,” he adds smartly before managing to bury his nose deeper into Damen’s skin. At least, Damen muses, he’s not the only one who finds comfort in the scent of his husband’s skin.

He could offer soothing words; empty words that would belie the thorn of apprehension in his heart at the prospect of weeks, possibly months of separation but he knows neither of them will appreciate them. It’s not their first time apart anyway.

The thought holds very little comfort.

Instead of speaking, he tightens his arms around Laurent, luxuriating in their embrace. Soon, the servants will wake and start doing their rounds to revive fires and wake their masters. Not long after that, the sun will rise in turn and by that time, Damen will be on his way to Vask where rounds of trade negotiation will start. It was Damen’s idea and Laurent agreed that Damen needed to strengthen the bond between his people and Vaskians and for that he has to go on this trip alone. Taking Laurent along will only accentuates the idea that Laurent is the one pulling the strings; an idea that’s still rather popular among counselors and countrymen.

Damen needs to show their people that he is more than a warrior king, more than Laurent of Vere’s husband.

Outside, the sky is still inky black and Damen’s towels do a very poor job of keeping him warm. Laurent helps, of course, but he needs to get ready; don on the many layers of clothes Laurent diligently prepared for him and make sure everything is in order for the journey. He needs to move and yet-

He gently rubs the back of Laurent’s neck, fingers playing with the fine hair there, and neither of them speak nor move.

Later, much later than planned, as Damen is about to mount his horse, Laurent grabs his wrists and turns him around. He pulls him down for a searing kiss in front of the guards and Damen’s companion. A kiss that robs Damen’s from the air in his lungs and probably has Nikandros rolling his eyes.

“Be safe,” the order is whispered against Damen’s lips. Laurent’s blue eyes are beseeching his lips are rose pink.

“Wait for me,” he smiles in reply and leans down for another short kiss.

When he rides away, he looks back once but Laurent is already gone. Damen smiles to himself and urges his mare on.

*

The negotiation with Vask go as planned. Weeks and weeks spent locked up in his office with Laurent have prepared Damen for the worst of it and while there has been a few terse moments here and there, things went as well he could’ve hoped. However, it was odd being alone suddenly. He thinks he’ll probably never get used to it, no matter how many political trips he takes; being away from Laurent will never be or feel natural again. Damen still had moments where he wanted to glance at his side to share a silent joke with Laurent or simply comment on something that was being said. It happened often enough that Halvik, a precious familiar face in a sea of strangers, commented on it.

“It’s too easy to get accustomed,” she says at dinner one evening after a rough of heated discussions.

“To what?”

“To partnership,” she replied with a strange smile and Damen’s own smile turned wistful.

He tries harder to remain focused after that but missing Laurent is like phantom ache and the days drags on and on.

The journey to and from Vask however have endured Damen to his limits. Even Nikandros, who has enjoyed Damen’s suffering when they were still in the comfort of Arles has dropped all pretenses somewhere during their first treks through the mountains.

He does stop grumbling and cursing long enough to tease Damen about Laurent’s almost bi-weekly missives.

_Damen,_

_Charls came to call upon you today. I’ll let you imagine the depth of his despair when he realised you wouldn’t be joining us for tea. It seems that my company and my card games skills couldn’t hold a candle to your wit._

_It’s not very hard to understand why._

_Laurent._

 

_Damen,_

_Week two has proven to be challenging and if you come back to an empty Council, the blame will lie solely on your giant shoulders. At this point even Nikandros’ company would be welcome compared to the morons here._

_I hope the furrs are keeping you warm._

_Laurent._

 

_Damen,_

_Makedon is gracing us with his boorish and delightfully grumpy presence. He complains about the wine and the music. He’s challenged Jord to three duels already and he says the crown I wore this morning doesn’t befit a King._

_I think he likes Vere better than Akielos._

_Laurent._

 

_Damen,_

_I found Jord reading a missive written by the hands of none other than Nikandros. There would be nothing alarming about it if it weren’t for the speed at which he tried to hide it from me and for the flush on his cheeks. I’ve never seen Jord blush before and to be quite honest, I’m not sure I like it._

_You better keep an eye on your Kyros!_

_Laurent._

 

They are never of import; Laurent knows better than to send valuable information by missives. Damen suspects they were for his own entertainment and to keep Laurent occupied while Damen is away.

He doesn’t says it once in all the notes he sent but Damen knows this is Laurent’s way of saying he misses Damen.

*

The mountains are long behind them and they are now travelling through Varenne. It’s been nine weeks since Damen and his company left the palace in Arles and the harsh winter has mellowed into a merely biting one. It rains almost incessantly and travel has slowed down considerably. They should’ve regained the capital a week ago but they keep having to stop to repair carriages and find shelter from the downpours.

On their tenth day of travel through Varenne, they stop at an inn for the night. Damen plays the role of a rich Akielon lord who’s en route to visit the Royals. Nikandros doesn’t want to play along so he keeps quiet all evening. When the innkeeper comments on his silent companion, Damen explains to her that Nikandros is unhappy about their slow journey.

“He misses his beloved,” Damen confides with a smirk while Nikandros glares at him. “Don’t worry too much, old friend. Jord will be waiting when we get there.”

The innkeeper coos while Damen snickers quietly at the red of Nikandros’ ears.

“May I be excused, Ex- um, my lord,” his friend asks through clenched teeth.

“Of course,” Damen grins.

He doesn’t see his loyal Kyros until much later in the evening. He’s used to it however; Damen favours his own company during the late hours.

On his first trip alone, Damen sought the company of others to keep his mind away from thoughts of Laurent. It quickly turned out that trying to fill the Laurent shaped hole by his side was more than a little difficult and instead of keeping him distracted it only reminded him of what he was missing. So, more often than not, he’d spend his evenings alone, reading through reports, planning meetings or reading books that Laurent heavily recommended. It wasn’t like having Laurent around but it was something akin to it.

That’s why it’s a little surprising when Nikandros knocks on his door a few hours later.

“You’ve received another… missive,” he says, shoulders stiff with annoyance. Damen tilts his head and arches an eyebrow.

“Well, where is it?” he asks extending his hand.

“It’s not something I would want to carry. It’s waiting for you in the private rooms downstairs.”

Damen leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Are you so upset about my little fib earlier that you would prank your king?”

“I wish this was a prank,” he mutters before rubbing a hand over his eyes. “He’s waiting downstairs, please go find him before someone recognizes him.”

At that, Damen jumps to his feet, heart flying to his throat. “He’s going to be very cross about you ruining the surprise.”

“So don’t tell him,” he shrugs. “After all it’s your surprise I ruined not his,” he taunts and Damen can’t help but laugh, a thrill running through his body.

He all but runs downstairs only to come to an abrupt stop in front of the closed door. He takes a deep breath and composes himself. When he’s sure he’s not smiling like a fool, he pushes the door open, ready to pretend to be shocked. Except... Laurent is wet, his blue eyes are huge and eager; there’s a smile blossoming on his face, sweet and unguarded. There’s also worry and fatigue in the taut lines of his face but it all washes away behind that heart-stopping smile.

Damen doesn’t have to pretend to be swept off his feet.

“You said to wait for you but you were taking too long,” Laurent says with a lift of his shoulders.

“The rain,” Damen explains, mouth dry and brain struggling to acclimate to being with Laurent again. Finally.

There’s something uncertain and tense about the way Laurent is holding himself. Something that seems almost young to Damen. In contrast, he lifts his chin and keeps his eyes locked on Damen. It only lasts for a couple of heartbeats before they start running up and down Damen’s form, seeking and claiming.

Damen’s heart can barely withstand it.

He closes the door and and in three strides he has Laurent in his arms, his lips devouring every inch of skin they land on. Laurent arms wrap around him like a vice and he opens his mouth for more.

“You could’ve been recognized, this isn’t safe.”

“I brought Jord with me,” he says breathlessly, pushing hair from Damen’s forehead. “I was prudent, I promise.”

They stare at each other. There are words climbing up Damen’s throat and piling up on his tongue. There’s so much to say but there’s even more to do and Damen has always been a man of action.

He brings his hands to Laurent’s fur cape and deftly undoes the laces there. They let it drop to the floor. Laurent’s eyes have turned the stormy blue of summer skies. The blue of their quiet moments together. The blue that Damen has made his mission in life to see as much as possible.

“Well, since you’re here…”

He kisses the smile off Laurent’s lips.

*

They return to Akielos for spring but they head back north as soon as the temperature rises too high. It makes no difference to Damen, harsh winds or unforgiving suns, as long as Laurent is along for the hardship, he would endure anything.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Tada! Some fluff during this harsh winter! I hope this finds you safe and well! Come talk to me on tumblr @zibliophile.  
> Title from the poem Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind - by William Shakespeare


End file.
